Luck
by MzShellSan
Summary: Merlin really was, like a good luck charm. Written for Day 28: Luck. Not Canon Compliant, Magic Reveal AU.


**30 Day Writing Challenge**

**Day Twenty-Eight: **Luck

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Pairing: **Merthur or Gen

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Merlin

**Luck**

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It occurred to Arthur once, late at night, long after the moon had reached it's peak, and even longer since Merlin had left him.

Merlin was an enigma, truly amazing. He followed Arthur everywhere, whether he was supposed to or not, witty remarks and sarcasm all the while, and he always _always _came out of it alive.

It was an odd thing to realise, so late in the game. It had been years since he's met Merlin at this point, and that meant he had gone years not realising just how lucky his friend manservant, has been to come out of each ordeal with sometimes less than a scratch on him.

But it was also concerning.

For years, he'd gotten used to bringing Merlin everywhere with him – no longer questioning when Merlin also assumed he was coming along – and he'd forgotten that the other man didn't have a single ounce of training (as evidenced by the way he _still_ refused Arthur's offers to learn).

And that was just the kicker, wasn't it? He had offered for this exact reason a couple of times over the years, and every time Merlin had refused, throwing out that he wasn't suited to sword-fighting. It was almost like a hint to something, but Arthur had never been able to figure out what, so he'd just let it go.

Another memory rose unbidden from his mind, Merlin proclaiming that he'd die if the manservant didn't come to him, but that he would be fine as long as Merlin was with him.

It had been such an odd thing to say, and Merlin had almost fallen over himself trying to explain exactly why, which had amused and exasperated him at the time. But if he thought back to the times before Merlin had become his manservant, to the near-misses he'd experienced in the past, he'd gotten so much closer to death every time before that.

When Merlin was with them though, lady luck seemed to favour them. Tree branches would fall on his enemies, and bandits would trip and stumble. And not just for him. For the rest of the knights as well.

He'd gotten so used to these happenings that he hadn't thought of their origins in a long while, but in the darkness of this night, he couldn't help but wonder, suspicion rising.

If it had been as such only a few times, then perhaps he could view it as coincidence, but a memory of Merlin and his friend (Will?) in Ealdor rose to his mind, and he could feel suspicion rising.

The first instinct he had was to deny that it was possible. Merlin wouldn't do that. He wouldn't practice magic, not in Camelot.

Except he would. Stupid, reckless, brave, kind-hearted Merlin who cared so much more for his people then Arthur ever could, and who had carved his place by Arthur's side, day by day, through every hardship on his rise to the crown, comforting him through it all, a steady presence through betrayal after betrayal, always reliable.

Merlin would do almost anything to protect those he loved. Of this, Arthur had no doubt.

As he continued to think on moments in the past, Arthur found only more and more evidence to support his theory, and wasn't that the worst thing? Because he spent a lot of his time with Merlin, most of it if he was being honest, so he couldn't very well leave this secret alone.

Part of him snarled at that word. Secret.

Merlin had kept something secret from him. He would not claim that Merlin had lied, because he had no doubt that when he finally asked his manservant whether or not it was true, he wouldn't lie.

Merlin didn't have it in him.

He would, however, try to side-step the question, and confuse Arthur into forgetting what it was he was asking. So he would have to be just as conniving (because there was no other word to describe what Merlin was. He was conniving, and so much smarter than Arthur ever gave him credit for).

Or perhaps, he reasoned with himself, maybe there had been enough 'conniving' between them. Perhaps the best solution was the easiest. He would just tell Merlin his thoughts, and refuse to let the man leave until he confessed.

And then Arthur could fill in so many gaps that he had forgotten in his anger, and irritation, almost always towards Merlin. (See? Conniving.)

Content with his plans, Arthur lay there throughout the night, willing his mind to sleep, but unable to catch more than a short sleep here and there, before he awoke once more.

The third time he forced himself to sit up in bed, giving into his need to be awake – and a little restless thinking of what was going to happen in a short while.

During what sleep he had gotten, he had been reminded of just how much Merlin had seen him do, how much he had watched Uther do, condemning his kin to death, over and over again. How could the other man stand to be here, in this castle, standing by Arthur's side always.

And when he realised that Arthur knew, how would he react.

When he'd thought on it before bed he had thought of Merlin defiant and then reluctant, but his dreams had offered him the thought of Merlin cowering, of Merlin _scared_ of him and that hurt so much more than the brief moment of hurt he'd felt at not being told for so many years.

And then he no longer had time to re-plan, to re-consider, because his door was rattling, and Merlin was stepping into the room, shock at Arthur being awake clear on his face.

"Well, _Sir_e_, _I had no idea that you would be so eager for today's activities." Merlin chirped, voice so cheerful, much too cheerful for the time, and yet so like himself.

Swallowing thickly, Arthur took a deep breath. "We have to speak about something."

He was proud of how steady his voice sounded, even as he wished that he was anywhere but in bed.

Merlin blinked for a moment, the picture of innocence as he stepped closer. "Is that so? Would you rather be dressed for this 'talk' or..?"

Arthur was about to agree, before his mouth clicked shut as he thought about it.

Perhaps if they spoke in this way, no pretences, no real line to draw between their status', then Merlin would be less inclined to be scared.

"No." He stated finally, patting the mattress near him. "Come sit."

Merlin's eyebrows rose high – something he'd clearly gotten from Gaius, and god, there's no _way _that Merlin was keeping this from the old man.

"Are you feeling okay this morning, _Sire_?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just sit down, _Mer_lin." He grumbled, annoyance rising despite what was about to happen. "And stop that."

It took a moment for Merlin to get what 'that' was, but as soon as he did he looked even more curious.

"I finally go out of my way to show you _respect_, and you don't want it." He complained half-heartedly, grinning as he let himself fall onto the bed heavily.

Snorting, Arthur rolled his eyes again, trying not to look too fond. "With how you say it, it might as well be an insult." He grumbled.

"Only the best for my King."

And wasn't that the issue? Because the way Merlin said that was so sincere. He truly only wanted the best for Arthur, for _his king_.

It was such a rush to realise as well, that somehow he had managed to receive the right for this amazing man to pledge himself to Arthur in a way he would pledge himself to no other.

"So, what is it Arthur?" Merlin said finally, and it had been so long since he'd heard his true name from anyone's lips, and he found that suddenly, he never wanted Merlin to call him Sire ever again.

But he was digressing once more, delaying the inevitable. And it would have to end eventually.

"It had come to my realisation, Merlin, that you are my good luck charm." Arthur started, kicking himself for the amusement that it caused on his friend's face. "A _magical_ good luck charm at that."

As soon as the word left his mouth, Merlin's face seemed to go passive, all amusement replaced with caution.

Not fear though, which was something.

"Sire?"

"I thought I told you to stop that." He admonished.

Merlin frowned. "Arthur then." He accepted. "I don't understand what you're implying."

"Sure you do. But you want me to say it."

There was a shrug from Merlin and a hopeless look on his face. "Wouldn't you in my position?" He shot back.

"Fine."Arthur conceded. "Merlin, do you, or do you not have magic?"

"Yes."

Just as he'd thought, Merlin did not lie, did not try to jump around the issue, but he was more docile then he'd thought.

"You're taking this well."

Merlin smiled a little, looking ever so lost as he shrugged once more. "You are my king, Arthur. If you wish for me to die, then I will in a heartbeat. As long as you don't exile me – because death would be a kinder sentence." He admitted softly, before looking into Arthur's eyes, completely relaxed, despite the caution that remained still. "But I don't think you want either of those things."

"Oh?"

Now he was curious, because Merlin knew him best out of everyone in his life, had been with him for such a long time, and if anyone could read Arthur, then it was him.

"Yup." And the cheeriness was back as the 'p' was popped, and he wasn't sure whether to hit shove Merlin off the bed or roll his eyes. "Because you insisted from the moment this all started that I call you by your name, which you never do. You want us to be as close to equals right now. If you wanted my head, you would've done this fully dressed and with a sword at your side. Instead you left yourself completely vulnerable."

You trusted me wasn't said, but both men knew it was there, underlying every single word, and in every breath that he'd taken.

"You're right." Arthur allowed.

At Merlin's wide grin of satisfaction, he opted to shove the boy this time, making him almost fall of the bed, but not quite.

"But answer me this, Merlin. Would a sword have even stopped you?" It was curiosity in his tone, not accusation, and the other man seemed to realise this as he hummed.

"If it was anyone else, Arthur, then it wouldn't have been worth a damn thing." He admitted. "But in your hand? In your hand it would have been _everything_. I told you didn't I? I would submit to your decision, even if that meant that it was time for me to die."

Swallowing thickly, Arthur shook his head at that, refusing to get emotional at Merlin's words, but having trouble given the thought of Merlin dying by his hand, even in theory.

"I'm not worth that, you fool." He muttered finally.

Merlin shrugged. "Your worth is never for you yourself to decide." He reminded gently.

Arthur snorted. "When did you become so wise?"

"I've always been this wise. You've just been too much of a clot-pole to realise it."

And then their heart to heart was over. The sun was rising higher and higher in the sky, the air all the clearer now that no more secrets remain.

Later, they would have to talk more about it, there was still much Arthur had to learn, and so much more he didn't know.

But given the relaxed and happy look on Merlin's face right now, he figured they could wait.


End file.
